I had already started writing this when I read it, and knew at once that it matched up in intent. It speaks beautifully to that sense of responsibility for everyone one encounters.
What a thought provoking essay. I find the idea of there being things we deem important to notice and things we routinely ignore really interesting. When you think for a moment, it’s obvious we do that but I wonder how many people are conscious of it. The pandemic was a reset prompt for me too, being lucky enough to stay well and not having to leave my village for a long time. I too used to be more in touch with the seasons and weather etc, growing up around farms. I still live near farms but I worked in a city for years, and I had attuned myself to it. Lockdown shrunk my world and made me reconnect with where I live, and by extension the natural world. I occasionally visit the city now but no longer mindlessly commute there daily and that seems to have adjusted my capacity to notice details when I do visit.
It's wonderful that one really can reset, isn't it? It seems hard to picture when things are static, but it,s amazing when one actually shifts in the direction that is right at that moment. This sounds like it was a really nice reset, despite the terrible overall situation that prompted it. Do you find that you notice more in both the country and the city now?
This is wonderful, and something I've been thinking about lately myself. As you know people in Sweden are very much in touch with the seasons, whereas here in England, where I live, life seems to go in the same whatever time of year. In a way I like not being distracted by having to swap my curtains to Easter curtains or Christmas curtains, but I also miss the rhythm these markers give the year, and I'm not sure how to reconcile my two selves. This is something I'm working on. And also, Bodil Malmsten is a favourite.
Oh, thank you! And so glad that you also like Bodil Malmsten. I haven't read much more than this one novel (in translation), but the novel somehow made the move to a little village possible. It's remarkable what effect a book can have. The swapping curtains thing is wonderful, but in truth I ddon,t do it, though I know people who do. I wonder why awareness of the seasons in itself feels like a distraction, as you said in the other note as well (and thank you for restacking)? It occurs to me that it might have something to do with how one sees oneself — maybe it interfere's with one's image of oneself in the city as a city person?
Malmstens book on writing "Så gör jag" is beautiful. And I think regarding the "distractions" it's more to do with being able to stay in some sort of creative zone without having to stop to prepare for whatever season.
Oh, how great, about Så Gör Jag — I actually own it, but have been too lazy to read it yet because it's not in translation. Will read it now, with this recommendation. And now I understand about the seasons, I think — it's not the noticing, but the call for social responses to the noticing? Because the merely noticing part is lovely…
Yes, agree, but as you're probably aware there's a certain level of conformity expected in Sweden which I always feel when I visit. And to be honest, these "rituals" do give a shape to the year, that I sometimes feel are lacking here in the UK. I sometimes feel as if I'm just floating not knowing if it's autumn or summer.
Ah, yes! I wouldn't dream of not putting lights in the windows at the appropriate time in winter! 😊 But I love that, the sense that everyone does their bit against the darkness. Have not taken on making cookies, though.
Maria, there are so many interesting ideas in here. I love how your reset manifested differently than you had planned but only because you had planned it, and how you connect it to your early childhood experiences. I too had a phase of childhood very tied to nature and then took my adult life in a completely different direction and am raising my child in a scheduled suburban way— and I fantasize about a phase where I’ll live alone in an Earthship, someday. And the E.M. Forester— how presciently he imagined our Zoom world. Your essay is a good reminder that even as we communicate with each other by pushing these buttons, and I do find it fascinating to connect this way, we also can come back to our bodies and the world. I hear the birds and crickets and cicadas greeting dawn on my side of the world now and it is time to go experience it for a moment.
Thanks so much! What does it mean to live alone in an earthship? How lovely that you went from reading Forster straight out into the experience of birdsong and crickets — and that you have the past nature experience as an anchor to pull you there…
An earthship is a particular home design made of adobe and upcycled materials, powered by solar and often with a gray water system. There’s a community of those homes near Taos, NM and it’s possible to build them elsewhere too.
I loved this piece. I didn't know this painting by Valadon, but am so glad to have seen it as I admire her work greatly. When I was teaching, although the school was in the depths of the countryside, I was barely aware of the changes in the seasons and now try hard to be consciously aware and appreciate the subtle daily changes.
I'm so glad you liked it, thank you! Valaron was completely new to me, and I actually think that this painting made me more present while writing. Had you studied her stuff at some point? On the noticing consciously — you know, when I read that I suddenly realized that what's missing now is that I do have be conscious about it, a little. It would be nice to go back to the days when one simply knew, without thinking about, because it was part of the way one moved in the world. We're getting there…
Here is something you might like to listen to, she was quite extraordinary. Yes, there is now a conscious desire to be aware but hopefully it be become second nature again.
How marvelous! Thank you, will listen. And it's funny how the second nature awareness thing works — I didn,t really realize that that's what I was missing until you wrote. Let's hope it returns soon for us both.
Just listened to the podcast — it's great. Thanks so much for mentioning it. Speaking of Degas (in part because of your wonderful essay that I'm still thinking about), it was nice to hear that he was an early and important supporter of Valadon, so something good for a change. On the conscious observing vs second-nature awareness thing, I had the headslap moment of realizing that of course an artist is consciously observing! I was stupidly thinking in terms of my own non-artist experience, so much less focused.
This post was a pleasure to read. So many of the same works have resonated in my mind for decades--from Walden to "Musee des Beaux Arts" to Forster's prophetic story. I also thought of Etty Hillesum's diaries, collected as An Interrupted Life: "In the past, I liked to start the day on an empty stomach with Dostoevsy or Hegel and during odd, jumpy moments I might also darn a stocking if I absolutely had to. Now I start the day, in the most literal sense, with the stocking and gradually work my way up through the other essential chores to higher planes, where I can meet poets and philosophers again." That she wrote this as the Nazi noose tightened around Holland makes it all the more stunning. Anyway, it's good to meet a kindred writer trying to balance the world of ideas and meaning with the world of fresh strawberries and holey socks. Linnesby sounds lovely.
(I see that I originally posted this in the main thread by mistake, so am reposting it here, where it belongs:)
Thank you so much! This sent me straight to your own writing, which I am enjoying so much so far, so thanks for that too. This line from Etty Hillesum - wonderful. I had never heard of her journals, and don't know if I can bring myself to read them, having looked her up and seeing that she did not survive. It's overwhelming painful. But might try, because her writing sounds extraordinary.
Thanks so much for reading! Etty was such an inspiring person, I remember her journals as a triumph of emotional and spiritual growth with the terrible times as a backdrop. Years ago, traveling with a friend, I visited the town in the Netherlands were she grew up. There was a little "Etty" museum there, watched over by two lovely women who served us tea.
That is nice to hear, the sense of being remembered, and of giving tea to strangers, as a coda to everything else. I will try to read the journals sometime, as she sounds extraordinary. But knowing what happened makes it so hard…
This is a powerful piece of writing, Maria, that will stay with me. I do feel like moving to a cottage in the woods, like you and Thoreau, for a while - though in my mind, it's on the edge of the land, with a view of the sea. How long I would last there alone is another matter. But I love the idea of a re-set.
Oh, wow, thank you! This means a lot, because I was afraid that I had toned this one too much down from earlier drafts and drained away the power, so to speak. It's such a hard balance, saying what one wants to say but not saying it either too strongly or too weakly. So much harder on the page than in a talk or some such thing.
Is it the idea of a reset altogether? A view of the sea sounds lovely…
Thank you! And yes, the Forster novella is worht reading. I first read it in high school, in the early 80s, and it occurred to me recently that most of the technology that he's imagining was almost as futuristic then as in 1909, when he was writing it. One forgets how different things were then.
Loved your essay and you introduced me to a new author. I left academia in 2010 because I wanted to live deliberately. I felt my center of gravity was my head. I went there to know the world. I wanted to live closer to the earth and fell in love with my garden, learned to grow food and flowers, trusted my hands in the soil. I was reclaiming the child who had grown up on a farm but I had had lost that connection and it was truly a transformative time. I learned to trust my body and live a more embodied life. In the beginning my attempts were still driven by my head. I wanted to be a successful gardener, cook, baker of sourdough bread.
But slowly as I stayed with my projects the centre of gravity fell to my belly centre. It took years of experimentation, failure and fighting with my inner demon that said I was wasting my time, my education to do menial things, material things, to commune with the earth, the soil, the plants, the birds and to feel my connection and love for the planet. I had to slay the inner patriarchal voice that had pushed me to achieve value in the outer world. I had to learn to play let go and be okay with less doing. I now value and am so grateful that I reset. Daily I fall in love with this beautiful planet.
Thank you, and thanks very much for this account! What a process it sounds like, and very intentional, which is not as easy as it might sound. I am glad and impressed that you found your way back to the kind of connection with the world that you had as a child.
Which author was the new one? If it was Bodil Malmsten (that seems a reasonable guess, just because she's not well known outside Sweden), then I hope that you find and enjoy the Finistère book. It's out in English translation, and I'll likely be writing some more on it soon as well.
Yes it was Bodil Malmsten. I look forward to reading it. Thank you. Looking forward to reading more of your essays. Love the tone and your voice. It reminds me of Ernaux - close and distant, intimate and universal.
Oh, thank you! I don't think that there is any aspect of doing this kind of writing (stylistically) that matters more to me than precisely that question of tone and distance. This comment is a dream come true — thank you again.
I’m so glad. Isn’t it a lovely poem to come across /be reminded of unexpectedly? To my mind it’s not really ambiguous, but I know that many people read as interpretable in two ways.
I’m so glad. Isn’t it a lovely poem to come across /be reminded of unexpectedly? To my mind it’s not really ambiguous, but I know that many people read as interpretable in two ways.
A wonderful essay Maria, with much to chew on. Thank you. Do you know of Jane Bennett's book on Thoreau? She draws out how his retreat to Walden is deeply connected to his political ideas, especially the ability to think for ourselves and so be capable of Civil Disobedience. An antidote to groupthink.
Oh, thank you! And no, how interesting —the book sounds intriguing, and will check it out. That part of Thoreau’s life was actually the part I always tuned into until recently, far more than “Walden.” The lines of descent from his writing
to Martin Luther King Jr and Gandhi fascinated me. “Walden” seemed secondary until suddenly that one line about going to the woods began to echo. A book that pulls the two threads together sounds like a delight.
I relate to all of it, thank you. And I'm touched that you linked my essay, thanks.
I had already started writing this when I read it, and knew at once that it matched up in intent. It speaks beautifully to that sense of responsibility for everyone one encounters.
(The earlier version of this essay actually went much deeper into how extreme that feeling of needing to care for anyone who seems vulnerable can be.)
(The earlier version of this essay actually went much deeper into how extreme that feeling of needing to care for anyone who seems vulnerable can be.)
What a thought provoking essay. I find the idea of there being things we deem important to notice and things we routinely ignore really interesting. When you think for a moment, it’s obvious we do that but I wonder how many people are conscious of it. The pandemic was a reset prompt for me too, being lucky enough to stay well and not having to leave my village for a long time. I too used to be more in touch with the seasons and weather etc, growing up around farms. I still live near farms but I worked in a city for years, and I had attuned myself to it. Lockdown shrunk my world and made me reconnect with where I live, and by extension the natural world. I occasionally visit the city now but no longer mindlessly commute there daily and that seems to have adjusted my capacity to notice details when I do visit.
It's wonderful that one really can reset, isn't it? It seems hard to picture when things are static, but it,s amazing when one actually shifts in the direction that is right at that moment. This sounds like it was a really nice reset, despite the terrible overall situation that prompted it. Do you find that you notice more in both the country and the city now?
I do, it’s like I lost the blinkers no matter where I am.
That's excellent!
This is wonderful, and something I've been thinking about lately myself. As you know people in Sweden are very much in touch with the seasons, whereas here in England, where I live, life seems to go in the same whatever time of year. In a way I like not being distracted by having to swap my curtains to Easter curtains or Christmas curtains, but I also miss the rhythm these markers give the year, and I'm not sure how to reconcile my two selves. This is something I'm working on. And also, Bodil Malmsten is a favourite.
Oh, thank you! And so glad that you also like Bodil Malmsten. I haven't read much more than this one novel (in translation), but the novel somehow made the move to a little village possible. It's remarkable what effect a book can have. The swapping curtains thing is wonderful, but in truth I ddon,t do it, though I know people who do. I wonder why awareness of the seasons in itself feels like a distraction, as you said in the other note as well (and thank you for restacking)? It occurs to me that it might have something to do with how one sees oneself — maybe it interfere's with one's image of oneself in the city as a city person?
Malmstens book on writing "Så gör jag" is beautiful. And I think regarding the "distractions" it's more to do with being able to stay in some sort of creative zone without having to stop to prepare for whatever season.
Oh, how great, about Så Gör Jag — I actually own it, but have been too lazy to read it yet because it's not in translation. Will read it now, with this recommendation. And now I understand about the seasons, I think — it's not the noticing, but the call for social responses to the noticing? Because the merely noticing part is lovely…
Yes, agree, but as you're probably aware there's a certain level of conformity expected in Sweden which I always feel when I visit. And to be honest, these "rituals" do give a shape to the year, that I sometimes feel are lacking here in the UK. I sometimes feel as if I'm just floating not knowing if it's autumn or summer.
Ah, yes! I wouldn't dream of not putting lights in the windows at the appropriate time in winter! 😊 But I love that, the sense that everyone does their bit against the darkness. Have not taken on making cookies, though.
Maria, there are so many interesting ideas in here. I love how your reset manifested differently than you had planned but only because you had planned it, and how you connect it to your early childhood experiences. I too had a phase of childhood very tied to nature and then took my adult life in a completely different direction and am raising my child in a scheduled suburban way— and I fantasize about a phase where I’ll live alone in an Earthship, someday. And the E.M. Forester— how presciently he imagined our Zoom world. Your essay is a good reminder that even as we communicate with each other by pushing these buttons, and I do find it fascinating to connect this way, we also can come back to our bodies and the world. I hear the birds and crickets and cicadas greeting dawn on my side of the world now and it is time to go experience it for a moment.
Thanks so much! What does it mean to live alone in an earthship? How lovely that you went from reading Forster straight out into the experience of birdsong and crickets — and that you have the past nature experience as an anchor to pull you there…
An earthship is a particular home design made of adobe and upcycled materials, powered by solar and often with a gray water system. There’s a community of those homes near Taos, NM and it’s possible to build them elsewhere too.
I did not know that. Goes to show that one should always ask! I was a bit lost 😊
And thank you for the restack!
I loved this piece. I didn't know this painting by Valadon, but am so glad to have seen it as I admire her work greatly. When I was teaching, although the school was in the depths of the countryside, I was barely aware of the changes in the seasons and now try hard to be consciously aware and appreciate the subtle daily changes.
I'm so glad you liked it, thank you! Valaron was completely new to me, and I actually think that this painting made me more present while writing. Had you studied her stuff at some point? On the noticing consciously — you know, when I read that I suddenly realized that what's missing now is that I do have be conscious about it, a little. It would be nice to go back to the days when one simply knew, without thinking about, because it was part of the way one moved in the world. We're getting there…
https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/jennifer-higgie-on-suzanne-valadon/id1480259187?i=1000516049999
Here is something you might like to listen to, she was quite extraordinary. Yes, there is now a conscious desire to be aware but hopefully it be become second nature again.
How marvelous! Thank you, will listen. And it's funny how the second nature awareness thing works — I didn,t really realize that that's what I was missing until you wrote. Let's hope it returns soon for us both.
Just listened to the podcast — it's great. Thanks so much for mentioning it. Speaking of Degas (in part because of your wonderful essay that I'm still thinking about), it was nice to hear that he was an early and important supporter of Valadon, so something good for a change. On the conscious observing vs second-nature awareness thing, I had the headslap moment of realizing that of course an artist is consciously observing! I was stupidly thinking in terms of my own non-artist experience, so much less focused.
And thank you for the restack!
This post was a pleasure to read. So many of the same works have resonated in my mind for decades--from Walden to "Musee des Beaux Arts" to Forster's prophetic story. I also thought of Etty Hillesum's diaries, collected as An Interrupted Life: "In the past, I liked to start the day on an empty stomach with Dostoevsy or Hegel and during odd, jumpy moments I might also darn a stocking if I absolutely had to. Now I start the day, in the most literal sense, with the stocking and gradually work my way up through the other essential chores to higher planes, where I can meet poets and philosophers again." That she wrote this as the Nazi noose tightened around Holland makes it all the more stunning. Anyway, it's good to meet a kindred writer trying to balance the world of ideas and meaning with the world of fresh strawberries and holey socks. Linnesby sounds lovely.
(I see that I originally posted this in the main thread by mistake, so am reposting it here, where it belongs:)
Thank you so much! This sent me straight to your own writing, which I am enjoying so much so far, so thanks for that too. This line from Etty Hillesum - wonderful. I had never heard of her journals, and don't know if I can bring myself to read them, having looked her up and seeing that she did not survive. It's overwhelming painful. But might try, because her writing sounds extraordinary.
Thanks so much for reading! Etty was such an inspiring person, I remember her journals as a triumph of emotional and spiritual growth with the terrible times as a backdrop. Years ago, traveling with a friend, I visited the town in the Netherlands were she grew up. There was a little "Etty" museum there, watched over by two lovely women who served us tea.
That is nice to hear, the sense of being remembered, and of giving tea to strangers, as a coda to everything else. I will try to read the journals sometime, as she sounds extraordinary. But knowing what happened makes it so hard…
This is a powerful piece of writing, Maria, that will stay with me. I do feel like moving to a cottage in the woods, like you and Thoreau, for a while - though in my mind, it's on the edge of the land, with a view of the sea. How long I would last there alone is another matter. But I love the idea of a re-set.
Oh, wow, thank you! This means a lot, because I was afraid that I had toned this one too much down from earlier drafts and drained away the power, so to speak. It's such a hard balance, saying what one wants to say but not saying it either too strongly or too weakly. So much harder on the page than in a talk or some such thing.
Is it the idea of a reset altogether? A view of the sea sounds lovely…
Lovely piece! I often have a desire to retreat to a cabin in the woods.
I need to read that Forster novella.
Thank you! And yes, the Forster novella is worht reading. I first read it in high school, in the early 80s, and it occurred to me recently that most of the technology that he's imagining was almost as futuristic then as in 1909, when he was writing it. One forgets how different things were then.
I needed to read about re-setting and living deliberately today. I lived Sweden 3 years and I am happy you’re on substack. Thoreau & 🇸🇪
How nice, thank you! And so glad that it offered something that resonated today.
Loved your essay and you introduced me to a new author. I left academia in 2010 because I wanted to live deliberately. I felt my center of gravity was my head. I went there to know the world. I wanted to live closer to the earth and fell in love with my garden, learned to grow food and flowers, trusted my hands in the soil. I was reclaiming the child who had grown up on a farm but I had had lost that connection and it was truly a transformative time. I learned to trust my body and live a more embodied life. In the beginning my attempts were still driven by my head. I wanted to be a successful gardener, cook, baker of sourdough bread.
But slowly as I stayed with my projects the centre of gravity fell to my belly centre. It took years of experimentation, failure and fighting with my inner demon that said I was wasting my time, my education to do menial things, material things, to commune with the earth, the soil, the plants, the birds and to feel my connection and love for the planet. I had to slay the inner patriarchal voice that had pushed me to achieve value in the outer world. I had to learn to play let go and be okay with less doing. I now value and am so grateful that I reset. Daily I fall in love with this beautiful planet.
Thank you, and thanks very much for this account! What a process it sounds like, and very intentional, which is not as easy as it might sound. I am glad and impressed that you found your way back to the kind of connection with the world that you had as a child.
Which author was the new one? If it was Bodil Malmsten (that seems a reasonable guess, just because she's not well known outside Sweden), then I hope that you find and enjoy the Finistère book. It's out in English translation, and I'll likely be writing some more on it soon as well.
Yes it was Bodil Malmsten. I look forward to reading it. Thank you. Looking forward to reading more of your essays. Love the tone and your voice. It reminds me of Ernaux - close and distant, intimate and universal.
Oh, thank you! I don't think that there is any aspect of doing this kind of writing (stylistically) that matters more to me than precisely that question of tone and distance. This comment is a dream come true — thank you again.
I really enjoyed this essay. I hadn't read the James Wright poem in a long while. Thank you!
I’m so glad. Isn’t it a lovely poem to come across /be reminded of unexpectedly? To my mind it’s not really ambiguous, but I know that many people read as interpretable in two ways.
(Originally posted this in the general comments, apparently, rather than as a reply, so am reposting now in the right place..,)
I’m so glad. Isn’t it a lovely poem to come across /be reminded of unexpectedly? To my mind it’s not really ambiguous, but I know that many people read as interpretable in two ways.
A wonderful essay Maria, with much to chew on. Thank you. Do you know of Jane Bennett's book on Thoreau? She draws out how his retreat to Walden is deeply connected to his political ideas, especially the ability to think for ourselves and so be capable of Civil Disobedience. An antidote to groupthink.
Oh, thank you! And no, how interesting —the book sounds intriguing, and will check it out. That part of Thoreau’s life was actually the part I always tuned into until recently, far more than “Walden.” The lines of descent from his writing
to Martin Luther King Jr and Gandhi fascinated me. “Walden” seemed secondary until suddenly that one line about going to the woods began to echo. A book that pulls the two threads together sounds like a delight.
(From his writing “Civil Disobedience,” I mean, as opposed to “Walden.”)